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Everything was constructed of marble or granite.
Breathe. Think. Where would Kargassa hide a vault? Would he bother to hide a vault?
The timer continued to descend.
Some humans installed safe rooms in their closets. Maybe Kargassa would do something similar.
The closet was almost as big as Sam’s living space, full of expensive cashmeres, pristine leather shoes and belts, cuff links in every gemstone, to adorn any of the many tailored suits.
Beyond all of that was a wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, held in place with gold dragon claw brackets.
It has to be one of these brackets…
Key inserted, one twist caused a mirrored panel to pop outward and slide aside to reveal another chamber. It too was marble lined, as the bedroom and corridors had been. Conversely, this room was small and empty, except for a gold emblem fixed to the back wall.
There were no holes suitable for the key. Instead, there were five holes surrounding the carved dragon head.
On closer inspection, Sam determined they were meant for dragon claws.
Would it work?
Sam held up a hand, shifting it so that the fingers extended into claws.
The claws trembled as they dipped into the mechanism. Sharp needles punctured the soft flesh of the first joints.
Jerking back, blood dripped in little splats onto the white marble floor.
Sam scrambled to clean up the evidence while monitoring the emblem for activity.
Nothing. Damnation.
Blood oozed out of the claw slots, prompting more frantic wiping.
Time to go. Quickly. Steady.
Sam backtracked, locked the mirror back in place, hurried through the room, then into the corridor and back to the elevator at a normal pace.
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Damnation!
The elevator doors opened. The phone’s timer went off, the sound bouncing off of the marble walls.
A female dragon rounded the corner. She paused, looking at Sam.
The Aeleftherian.
“Jori?”
Sam stepped into the elevator, jabbing the button to close the door, and descended back to the safety of the library.
Staring at the reflection of the metal walls, Sam’s appearance transformed from the long-haired, tattooed new king back to their own unremarkable features, clean skin and common hair style.
Sam shoved their hands into their pockets to hide the blood as much as to still the trembling.
Failed. Again. Damnation. I’m going to have to scavenge for more samples after I finish the Master’s diary entry.
Every experiment needed to be recorded. Precisely.
